


Advice

by mormolyce



Category: Incredibles (Pixar Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, No Sexual Content, No period-typical homophobia, Post-Canon, Reference to cheating but nothing extreme, Reference to the comics, evelyn is a lonely mess, evelyn/mirage is the future and y'all need to catch up, they could maybe be friends on the basis of how much they care about helen, we all love elastigirl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 13:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15413718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mormolyce/pseuds/mormolyce
Summary: Helen is unhappy, Bob could use some advice, and Evelyn Deavor is bored witless.





	Advice

Winston got her out after two months. It was more than a blessed relief. As she had learnt early on, the very rich and the very scrawny tend not to be treated too kindly in prison, and although she had bought off most the girls, her refusal to fund drug runs had landed her in hot water, and isolation, more than once. And that was only in two months.

Still, at least prison had been interesting. Sure, the house had no internal CCTV, and sure, the ankle tag was only moderately intrusive, but being stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but sulk was driving her insane. She couldn’t even go for a hike, all she could do was stare morosely up the hills and wave her foot outside the building's boundary line, delighting in every _ping ping ping_ that sent a full platoon of private security to her door. Half of her hoped that if she kept it up enough they’d just stop coming, but Winston had threatened to get the real police involved, and once they caught wind of her antics they’d probably just slap more time on her sentence. God, it was dull.

Except, of course, when Helen came to visit. The transition to first name basis had delighted Evelyn more than was reasonably possible, despite her best efforts to convince herself she didn't care about secret identities. After all, she’d had plenty of opportunities to unmask Elastigirl before – and Mr Incredible, and Frozone, and every other sucker she’d slapped a pair of goggles on. But that had been months ago and since then her priorities had changed drastically. Priority one was to keep her promise to Metroville's prison branch of Alcoholics Anonymous; priority two was to get someone, somewhere, to entertain her. In literally any capacity. At all.

And while, she mused, sipping her brandy slowly, priority one was going down the drain, priority two, fuelled by the ever pleasant concern, consideration, and attention of Helen Parr, was going swimmingly. She picked up the remote and slouched back in the armchair, flicking through the television channels dully, desperate to find a show that wasn’t interviewing a super, or making a documentary about a super, or theme-songing a super, or action-dolling a super. They  really were everywhere these days.

The doorbell rang, shrill and sharp, and Evelyn started in her seat, eyes swivelling in the general direction of the front door. She wasn’t expecting a delivery, Winston certainly wasn’t coming to day, and Helen always called beforehand. She shrugged and looked back at the TV screen, making no effort to get out of her chair.

A few minutes later it rang again, followed by some loud thuds and indiscriminate yelling. Evelyn pursed her lips and sighed, leaving her drink on the table and rolling her eyes as she stood. If this was a reporter she’d wring his neck – she’d had her fair share of dealing with those people, and she was _not_ about to entertain another. She opened the door without checking the peephole, and stared blankly upwards. The man in front of her was huge, as wide as she was tall and built like a brick shithouse. She smiled at him sarcastically and he frowned back, looking for all the will in the world as if he was about to smash her head in.

“Can I come in?” Bob asked, in a tone that made it perfectly clear the question was rhetorical.

Evelyn stepped away from the door and held open her arms.

“Be my guest.”

Bob nodded and stormed past her, taking advantage of Winston's obessession with open-plan house design and throwing himself immediately onto the nearest couch. Evelyn slowly pushed the door shut and meandered over to the adjacent armchair, picking up the remote and flicking the television off. She sat down in her seat, resting one elbow on the arm of the chair.

“Well?”

Bob inhaled and exhaled sharp enough to cause ripples in the brandy on the coffee table.

“Helen told me about the kiss.”

Evelyn’s eyes traced the pattern in the carpet as she processed the information.

“I see,” she said, shortly. “And you’re here to, what? Intimidate me?”

“No,” huffed Bob, indignantly. “Besides,” he continued in a quieter tone, “If I did you’d probably just film it and put it all over the news.”

Evelyn gave him a smirk and a lazy finger gun by means of confirmation. Bob sighed and hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Do you love her?” he asked finally, staring at the ground.

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you love her!?”

His anger was enough to make Evelyn jump. She shifted uncomfortably on the chair and picked up her drink, sipping it absentmindedly as she mulled the question over. She was certainly infatuated. Elastigirl, Helen Parr, was a phenomenal woman; kindhearted, accomplished, intelligent (albeit not as intelligent as Evelyn), and to top it all off stunningly beautiful to the point it was almost insulting. Anyone with a functioning brain would have been infatuated with her. But love? That was a tricky one. Evelyn sighed and emptied her glass, slamming it down on the coffee counter and unconsciously mimicking Bob’s posture.

“I don’t know,” she said, matter-of-factly. “She’s beautiful and I’m bored. _And_ she’s one of the few people who comes by to talk to me these days.” She stared dully at Helen’s raging-bull of a husband. “Sorry I can’t give you a better answer.”

Bob watched her for a moment,  before turning away and glaring at the opposite wall.

“Because I do,” he replied, with over-dramatic stoicism. “I love her and I would do anything for her.”

“Anything?” asked Evelyn with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, _Screenslaver,_ anything. And I…” He paused, expression softening. “I can see she’s not happy. Even the kids can tell. And then there’s all this with the supers coming back and Jack-Jack playing up and then _you_ and I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“Have you ever considered she just likes women?” quipped Evelyn a little too confidently, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs like an empress ordering an execution.

“Oh, I know all that,” said Bob dismissively, waving a hand in her direction without looking up. “She had what, two girlfriends before she started dating me? That’s not it. At least I don’t think that’s it because it hasn’t been a problem for the last twenty years so unless something’s started going horribly wrong - which it hasn’t – then that’s not it.” He paused. “I don’t think anything’s started going wrong.”

Evelyn stared into space, more than a little winded. Bob looked up at her, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What, you didn’t think you were the first woman she’s been with did you?”

“ _No,_ ” spat Evelyn unconvincingly, wriggling awkwardly as a bit of loose fabric caught on her ankle tag. “Besides, no offence, _Bob_ , but if you aren’t here to scold me then what do you want?”

“I could use…” He rolled his wrists and slumped back on the couch. “Advice,” he admitted finally.

“Advice?” snorted Evelyn, delighted to have the upper-hand once more, “You’re asking me, the woman your wife _literally_ cheated with, for advice?”

“Well, from my perspective it’s either that or have you ruin my family. And seeing as you don’t even love her, I think it’s not a bad option. Unless of course you would be content to ruin our family and make us all miserable for the rest of our lives, which is a stupid question now I’m saying it out loud, because I’m sure you would be thrilled to.”

Evelyn placed her elbow on the arm of the chair and lazily rested her chin in her palm. Bob’s anger was really very monotonous once you get used to it.

“She’s bored _,_ Bob,” said Evelyn bluntly, slouching back in her seat. “There’s a world of crime out there and while I’m sure she’s thrilled to be mopping up every last bit of it, coming home to a household of sleeping children and their male domestic is not exactly exciting.”

“But… We fight crime together!” exclaimed Bob, flabbergasted. “What’s boring about that? We’re a unit, a family, a team! If she wants to work on Parents’ Evening that’s hardly my fault! And I spent 20 years coming home to a sleeping household, it never did me any harm!”

“ _Romantically bored_. God, it’s a good thing you came to me for advice, no one else would have the patience.” Bob glared at her, but Evelyn uncrossed her legs and continued nonplussed. “She has needs, she likes affection. I mean she never asks for admiration, unlike _some_ supers I know, but at the very least you could do something nice for her. Take her on a spa day, give her a massage every now and then, just show the woman a little appreciation.”

“Oh, oh, a spa day!? My family’s falling apart and you suggest what, a massage and a spa day!?”

“It worked for me,” replied Evelyn with a cocky shrug. Bob clenched and unclenched his fists a few times. “Look,” continued Evelyn smoothly, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. “What was it like when you first got married?”

“That was different!” continued Bob, not quite yelling but definitely a few decibels above accepting talking volume. “We didn’t have kids then, the whole…” He gestured with his hands, struggling to find the words. “The political landscape was different.”

“Okay, and how did she treat you when you were working?” Evelyn replied, swallowing a sarcastic comment.

“She… said I was doing a wonderful job and the contributions I made were invaluable.” Bob sighed, tone softening as the point finally dawned on him. “And that I kept the family afloat. And… that she really appreciated all the sacrifices I made… And that I was still incredible.”

“And how many times have you said that to her since she took up fighting again?” said Evelyn with a confident smirk. Bob shook his head and sighed again.

“There’s no need to hammer it home,” he said, defeated. “I get the picture.”

Evelyn leant back in her chair, swinging her legs over one of the arms and turning full body to face Bob. Bob rested his elbows on his knees and stared morosely at his feet.

“She doesn’t love me you know,” said Evelyn, tone gentle as she watched Bob Parr wrestle with his own stupidity. “She just… She needs someone to make her feel loved. And, oh my god, does she want that person to be you. She cares about you and your family more than I think I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

Bob smiled sadly.

“Just… Look after her Bob, okay? Just look after her.”

Bob sat back on the couch, still staring at the wall. He nodded a few times, more to himself than Evelyn, and then looked at her, face determined.

“Thank you,” he said, slowly.

“No problem,” replied Evelyn sarcastically, clicking her fingers and winking at him.

“I’m… I’m gonna go now,” he continued, face growing uneasy as he realised quite what he was doing. “Thank you,” he repeated, “But I think… Yeah. Thank you. I’ll see myself out.”

Evelyn nodded lazily as Bob got up from the couch.

“You do that, big guy. Tell the missus I said hi.”

Bob turned and stared at her from halfway across the living room.

“Or don’t,” she continued, hands raised in mock-innocence, but smirking nonetheless.

Bob huffed and stomped out of the room. Evelyn watched intently as he clattered his way to the front door, sagging with relief when it slammed shut. She flopped off her chair and meandered over to the drinks cabinet, cheerlessly pouring herself another brandy. She could see why Helen liked him. And she could _certainly_ see why he liked Helen. She took a sip of her drink and sighed. Ah well, it wouldn’t be fair if she fell for someone who was actually available. That would be far too unrealistic.

She paused.

That said, Helen had spoken very favourably about the NSA agent she’d worked with when she was taking down Xerek. What was her name again? Oasis? Mirage? Something desert related anyway. Evelyn took another sip of her drink. And at least if she started working for the Department of Defence she wouldn’t have to compete for, or against, people with actual super powers. Unless they were supervillains, which, quite frankly, suited her very nicely. God, was she really that desperate? Evelyn grunted to herself and finished the rest of her drink. She was a powerful intellectual businesswoman, who knew how to reap revenge and invent shit that would have Einstein reeling. She wasn’t desperate, she was simply… Looking for a suitable equal.

She screwed the cap on and shoved the bottle back into the liquor cabinet, closing it with conviction. It was time Devtech branched into a new realm of communications. Once the government saw the technology Evelyn had to offer they’d be begging at her feet, all it would take then was a few crocodile tears to get Winston on board, and boom. More money, less boredom, and the opportunity to perhaps, possibly, date someone who wasn’t already married. Maybe she could even strike a deal with the federal courts to get her sentence shorted in the process. She smiled to herself and slunk slowly in the direction of the basement to scour for blueprint paper. And, this time round, there would be no damnable baby to ruin everything.

 


End file.
